Team, Kids, Action!

We the team of Cispus AmeriCorps promise to...

Be accepting and inclusive of all members of our team and the people we are serving

Remain open minded and adapt to new challenges/obstacles

When faced with challenges that we do not think we can handle, we will fake it til we make it

Support each other through teamwork by dedicating ourselves to a common cause

support each other, taking into account our many flaws. Our commitment will be unwavering in our continued effort to cooperate with each other. 

Always treat each other as a brother from another mother

Take time to have fun while getting things done for East Lewis County

Care for each other compassionately

Make sure every members opinions will be heard even when they differ from our own

Take initiative in developing the growth of ourselves and the community through an open and honest network of communication which continuously provides feedback and advice for improvement

-Our 2013-14 team agreement, elegantly written and arranged by us at Cispus

And we are officially in full(er) swing. Swinging enough that time is getting harder to keep up with. 

The Challenge Course Training ended on Monday just in time for me to zoom back to Packwood for our first day of OPEN GYM! About half of the team came to support Mary and I for opening day (some even despite being exhausted from the weekend.)

I was nervous at first. As the slow trickle of kids came in, Mackensie and Corey ventured onto the court to play ball with a few while Mary and I tackled the logistics of new forms and behavioral agreements. For a time, things slowed down to where no one was coming in and the few kids there were already occupied so had the attention of one of us so I sat by the door feeling rather useless. Then a young boy named J (I will be using just first letters for names) began dribbling a ball around separately from the kids on the court and I caught him with this sort of searching look on his face so I got up to offer my amateur sporting skills. The night picked up from there on out. J and I shot hoops and he did just as much to make me feel included as I had hoped to do by approaching him. Our newest member Lou who had just arrived in Morton the night before came and joined in just in time for me to be dragged away to help a girl named A on a computer game. She insisted on playing even though she said she left her reading glasses at home and couldn't see the words. It was rewarding to try and engage her in different ways on how to understand the game but after a while, I began to worry I should be spreading my attention a little wider. Thankfully, the computer froze one too many times for her and we moved onto a tea party game in the middle of the stage where I was more accessible. That is where the most adorable kindergardener A(2) found me and when A lost interest, I got to spend a good portion of the evening running around with A(2) playing with hula hoops and balls and frisbees. I told her it was my first time here and she was thrilled "It's my first time also!"

I learned the names of quite a few of the other kids that night but felt that I remained sort of a distant figure to them. Mary gave me the low down on a couple of the kids on our way home. The ones that had tempers, the bullies, the cooperative ones, the needy ones. As it turned out, A probably doesn't even have reading glasses. She apparently just needs help with everything that she does. "What I say" Mary advised, "is that if you can't use the computer yourself, you don't need to be on it."

Tuesday was another exciting launch. I had scheduled a rather impromptu Community Garden meeting at the church and had no idea who would show. A few hours before the meeting, I finally made phone contact with the elusive Gretchen, Organic farmer extraordinaire of Packwood!  After weeks of hearing so much about her and yet never managing to meet, Mary and I had decided that it was the whole town's joke on me. Not only is she very very real but she had heard about the garden and was planning on coming to the meeting. After I got off the phone with her, it sort of hit me that I was holding an actually meeting and that it should probably include some sort of semi-professional agenda so I went ahead and did some last minute research, realizing there was actually quite a bit of ground to cover. The meeting ended up being modestly sized - six of us - but full of enthusiasm and participation and resources. I had half thought that people would approach the project with a half-assed skepticism but everyone there was all-in. We tossed around every and all ideas for funding and location and by the end of the meeting, we had come up with our top location options, our goals for the garden's function, our building goals for the year and our next step of writing a mission statement and proposal for property usage. In the days following, I also received a number of additional names and contacts of those who want to get involved and those who could offer some experiential wisdom.

Wednesday wrapped up our first week of open gym and I was amazed at how much more comfortable I felt in just the shift between the first and second day. Even the kids I had only learned the names of had me on their radar that first night and I was more readily able to interact with them and call them by name. It was a slow start again because of football practice for some of the kids but this time, I had much more to do at the table, making sure we kept track of forms and sign-ins. Once things picked up, I wandered from the front door and began to look for where to place myself when a hula hoop spun from the sidelines to hit a girl named L in the face. Crying ensued as A(3) ran over to apologize. I made sure L understood it was an accident and things seemed to diffuse until a little while later when I found A(3) trying to crawl under the stage. "L hit me and made me bite my tongue!" she said, crying. While I said I was proud of her for finding her own space instead of hitting back, I could not let her under the stage. I asked what she thought about going to talk to L about how she felt and she nodded. L was not so keen on this and when we found her, she started out in a fit, heading for her shoes and insisting she was going to leave. I sat down and persistently tried different approaches to cool her off just enough to stop putting her shoes on, and finally to look at A(3) to exchange some real dialogue. It became apparent very quickly that this was an ongoing thing outside of OG for them and I felt a bit trapped that I didn't have the inside info to tackle that bigger issue. Miraculously, we ended in a three-way hug.

I also got to try my hand at basketball again and am becoming a fan of this game called "Bounce." At one point, it was mellow enough inside that a good lot of us were able to get a game going. J is the star of the court and I had only ever seen him playing sports at the gym so I didn't know if we would ever relate beyond that. Then for the last hour of the evening, L asked if I could build a fort with her in the corner. We propped up a ton of gym mats and made a few beds and began playing house. Every so often, a ball would fly in and someone would get it or a kid being chased would use it for a hiding spot. Then all of a sudden, J, C and C(2) walked in on us making banana pancakes and we then had two pets and a dad in the house. The story picked up when E, an older girl who is quite the thespian, decided to get involved and began playing these eccentric villainous characters whose role was to try and incriminate us for various pet violations. Every time she came by, we would have a different "cover up" and every time she left, we would frantically plot a new plan. In the middle of it, J exclaimed "this is awesome! This would make a great play!" It was so fun to see his enjoyment expressed off of the court.
At the end of the night, the AmeriFamily that had come all joined Mary and I for Tacos and drinks at the Spruce where I met more townie community.

On Thursday, Mary and I got to be timers for the cross country track races at a deceptively unpronounced campground that we pass all the time on highway 12. In actuality it is gorgeous and spacious enough to host the 1.5 and 3.2 mile races for the junior and high school students. Despite any distracting hillarities that ensued from trying to simultaneously count minutes and being jolted by the abrupt gun shot of the starting noise, I would say we did a pretty good job for amateurs.

And finally, on Friday's meeting the team shirt designs were finalized, the Teen center cleaned and "Morton Teen Center" painted on the window. And today, we open!

In other news, rain. is. here:

Also, it took me forever to realize that the sound I am hearing out my window all the time is Elk:

Elk noises!

They have been re-exotified in my eyes.

Challenge Course Training Weekend

This non-stop week kicked off with a long training weekend up at the Cispus headquarters for those of us that are interested in being volunteer facilitators this year (or those of us that are interested in getting to clock those training hours.) It was fun because it felt like being back in summer camp. And it was tough because it felt like being back in summer camp. My days were interspersed with flashbacks of lining up in cabin groups to go to the dining hall or scrambling around dusty bunks trying to grab some forgotten raincoat before the group dispersed without you. But the strangest sensation was when those memories crossed over with recognizing that was not me anymore and the longing for home that they brought with them tried to implant itself. 

Experiencing the challenge course itself was a far more enriching comparison. I remember playing the little warm up games where we would have to line ourselves up by birthday without talking. I remember balancing on snarly ropes and clinging to the shirts of my peers as we tried to fit everyone on  a small square platform. I remember being hoisted over giant barrels and being belayed into the air. I remember all of these things but in my mind, they were purely physical. Even thought of almost as solitary acts. And when they were not solitary, they were about proving yourself, always watching the other students. Now here as a facilitator, we were learning all of the hidden lessons and growth opportunities these courses had to offer. I do not know if it was because I had never had a good facilitator or I just had not registered these courses on a more personal level at that age, but to see the breadth and depth of material to work from was by far the most rewarding part of the weekend. 

Our first day was mainly used to get us out on the course and experience some of the events first hand. The weather was mild and at the end of the afternoon, our group was still pretty chipper. No injuries, no cold or wet limbs, and no extremely hindering barriers had been encountered at the events. We even had the guts to exclaim something along the lines of "pshh, that was a challenge?"

It had been implied that we would be meeting inside that evening to get our manuals and read over some of the material. So after dinner, I made some tea and grabbed an apple, ready to get cozy. I almost thought about slipping on pjs. "Alright! Everyone get a blindfold and meet outside!" We had just received our manuals before we were thrown a large sheet and scissors and were out of our chairs again. We got in a circle to play a short warm-up game and I half-heartedly followed along, thinking of my cooling tea inside. With the ending in our hands, we finally decided it was "done" and I began to turn back towards the door. "Okay, everyone got your blindfolds? follow me!" That door suddenly became a distant memory as we paraded past the cabins back in the direction of the woods. I tried to fathom what the blindfolds were for, thinking the were going to lead us to the tree line perhaps and do some sort of guided practice to get us back inside. But no, we were going deep in. I was rigidly holding onto my impatience and disappointment about my tea and once I realized we were not coming out any time soon, I held a stiff scowl as our instructions for the mystery event were given. We were to be blindfolded and led, hands on shoulders, to the event. There would be a rope and at the end of a rope, there would be keys. Find the keys and you are done. Always have hand on rope. No talking. Many in the group had questions and many had repeated questions for clarification. I just wanted to get this over with. Then, as we finally got going, sight and sound gone, I realized how stuck I was an slowly released my frustration. The event turned out to be fascinating. Challenging and frustrating. But fascinating. The whole way back, none of us could stop talking. What it had been like to be so lost and what it had been like for those who finished, to helplessly watch those so lost. After that, none of us were saying we were not challenged. As it turned out, that had been the only reason that was integrated into our evening plans. 

This was one of many things we spent the second day doing: learn how to read the group. The woods offer over 33 different events and with the possibilities of field activities, your tool box had enough to keep you busy for days. The course sees all sorts of groups: ROTC, sports teams, camps, school groups, recovery groups, even business groups. As a facilitator, our job is to present our group with challenges that will benefit them in the goals they are trying to reach and to recognize what is emotionally, mentally, physically or spiritually too much for them. We started the day with a chilly walk and talk through as many events that we could get to in the woods before lunch, learning about the different reasons one would or would not use different events and what to be aware of in terms of safety. The second half of the day brought the rain and we huddled under a shelter with a fire. Our trainers could tell that some of us were feeling pretty defeated from the weather and as they showed us how to do a couple of "lawn games", actual participation was left up to choice while the watchers stayed close to the fire. I was in the watching group a number of times. 

On our final day, we split up into two groups and each of us facilitated an event. Since our "group" was not really one with a focused goal, each of us disclaimed with the kind of group we were tailoring our event for. We got to act like rowdy middle schoolers and stuck-up cheerleaders while our group leaders Corey and AJ kept us on track by asking the missed questions and giving us feedback afterwards. 

At the end of the weekend, I felt strange. I loved the idea of these experiential tools that empower kids to kind of do their own learning about themselves and their relationship to the world and others. And yet, while I believed and heard about all of the "ah ha" moments that you get to witness by putting the challenges into the group's own hands, I couldn't shake the intimidation I felt about being responsible. I fancied myself an observer - acute at reading others - and yet I froze at the thought that I would have to pick the right sequence of activities and the right debriefing questions for the groups I was with. The entire time, I had felt like the events were presenting no real issue for me - I trusted being lifted, going through tough physical areas, I was good at planning out solutions with the team - and yet the growth opportunity was hanging over me the whole time. I was constantly comparing our instructor's wisdom and course of action to the hypothetical course that I would lead and immediately, I was shutting down and feeling inferior. It wasn't until a few days later when I was shaking off the last of this dissatisfied feeling that I realized my issue. I needed to let myself accept being a beginner. It was insulting to myself and to those who had invested so much time into learning a skill that I would expect to be able to launch myself into facilitation with the same expertise. It was frustrating to recognize such an immature perception but it was suiting to find a wedge of personal growth from that weekend that I had not been able to articulate before. 

Also, besides getting to spend more time with the AmeriFamily I also got to meet some wonderful individuals from other organizations as well: An incredibly charismatic and fun young man Tino, a spunky and vibrant school employee patricia, a calm, quiet music teach Josh, Jaqualine and Roberta both very strong-valued educators and Taza a Zumba teacher and children's yoga instructor for a montessori school who felt especially relatable. 

And we got T-shirts. 

Meet n' greet weeks of AmeriCorps

While my role in the after-school programs doesn't start until the 23rd, I already feel like I have been here for months. For the past couple of weeks, me and the group have been up and down Highway 12 noshing, romping jumping, playing, planning and laughing as get to know one another and the communities.

From top to bottom, left to right: Desiree from Alaska, Ainsley from New Jersey, Alice from New York, Mackenzie from Nebraska, Corey and Jordan from Washington, Mary from Virginia, Chris from New Hampshire, Nora from Oregon, Me, Cavan from Washington and the invisible soon to join us member Lou from Illinois. 

Last Wednesday our supervisor Meghann took us into Rainier park territory to walk one of the shorter trails called grove of the Patriarchs. It is far too modest to be called a hike but the small mile loop through old growth forest engrossed me nonetheless. The path was interspersed with signage that provided brief but comprehensive descriptions of the various tree types, a subject that has remained a curiosity to me but that I have never ardently delved into. But living here as opposed to being a passing traveler has infused me with a more vigorous determination to give it a go.

Western Red Cedars has practical, medicinal and spiritual
significance for native tribes. Distinguished by peeling red-brown
bark and broad-fanned branches. Favored for its straight grain, durability
and water resistance which allows it to grow in swampy areas, up to
200 feet. 

Douglas Firs are some of the largest and oldest of the area.
 They thrive in open areas where there have been landslides or floods.
Bark is grey, thick and deeply grooved. Drooping branches filled
with cones that my dear friend Bill introduced me to as "fleeing mice"
cones because of the scene they illustrate.
Named after David Douglas who walked 6000 miles along PNW in
search of new plants in the 1820's 

Western Hemlocks have thin scaly brown bark and are
densely populated with needled branches which produce
prolific quantities of seed. It thrives in shade of mature forests
where its many seeds start developing on "nurse logs" of older trees
but only a few well-founded ones reach maturity of 200 feet. 

Red Alder is actually noted by its grey bark and coarse toothed leaves.
it colonizes in areas that have been disturbed and removed of trees as
well as close to water. it is so prolific because bacteria in root nodules
are able to obtain nitrogen from the air and convert it to fertilizer. 

Tree downed by a winter storm in the 1970's. It is thought that it's intricate root
system was intertwined with the tree across from it, taking both down when one fell. 

Chris took the "one person at a time" advisory
very seriously. 

I have also decided to try my hand at mushrooms after spotting such a wide variety on our Sand Lake hike. For Grove of the Patriarchs, I thought a step ahead and brought a bag. Unfortunately, I didn't think ahead any more steps and through my book investigations later that day, concluded that I had found a Cascade Russula, edible with a mild peppery taste, as well as a Death Cup. Not a trick name but actually one of the most poisonous mushrooms there is. Next time, I will remember to bring separate bags so that I can safely indulge.

Our Grove walk was combined with a walk to Silver Falls, another small trail across the way. These water falls run into the same Ohanapecosh River that runs through the groves and was some of the most crystalline water I have ever seen. This is because it sources purely from snowfall and clear glacial ice from nearby inactive glaciers. Were the glaciers active, the water would be cloudier from moving sediment.

We ate lunches by the waterfall and moved to a quiet place upstream to have a reflection time on some of the first days in the school earlier in the week. The overall sentiments were "chaotic and unprepared, but lots of enthusiasm from the community." It has been reassuring to hear of other's wobbly footing before I have had to start but I am also getting anxious to meet the kids in the area, as there are already some pointed characters from years past that everyone else has had an opportunity to engage with.

Our next days were a combination of work and play. To review the basic skeleton of rules set in place for the teen center, we brainstormed our own rules on paper and instead of popcorn style, shared them snowball style via a ridiculous paper ball fight. We had a more intense learning on Friday when we were introduced to the ins and outs of the Love and Logic 40 Assets approach to youth work which aims to encourage and enhance innate strengths in kids as opposed to punish for faults and weaknesses. The structure identifies 40 factors that play an instrumental role in cultivating conditions for a childs growth, subdivided into internal and external factors. I began to sweat over it a little as our mentor Dennis talked about being conscientious of how we can integrate these into our curriculum at every corner before reminding myself that they were just ways of identifying common sense. After our lessons for the day, we fine-tuned our aspirations for the group in the form of a choppy, ghetto-poetic written agreement and then balanced out the day with some good old Jeopardy and a combined effort smorgasboard potluck lunch (I took the opportunity to continue to try and make a dent in my squash surplus that still exists from the farm.

Tensions are high! 

Corey's attempt at stealthily getting us the lead. Instead, he just managed to give our team color a makeover.

Meghann receives the answers to our final question: What state is the 40 assets
Search Institute based out of. Amused by our attempt to garner a bonus for listing
the state capitol, governor and his hometown.  

That night, I experienced my first football game....I think, ever. (Yeah, I challenge anyone else to pull that off growing up a block away from a significant stadium!) The Morton Whitepass Timberwolves VS the Adna Pirates, apparently long-time rivals. I am going to have to work up a reserve of team-color-attire for these events because it is no joke in this town.

First Field goal of the night!

I caught onto the essentials pretty quickly. Root for Timberwolves (green and orange). Four tries to make 10 yards. Reset every 10 yards made. 6 points for a touchdown plus 1 for a field goal. Macho body smacks are a thing. Cheerleading chants: Push up, push up fight fight fight! And just be really enthusiastic. The hardest part for me was finding the ball. With all those stops and goes, that thing moves everywhere!

I gotta admit, I felt a rush for the team when they bolted for the 50-yard mark but I am still not sold on the whole aggression thing. I'll don my colors, though.

We left at the beginning of the last quarter to go back to Corey's for a bonfire, but we didn't miss much. The game ended with the same score as when we left. 55-6, home game. Go Timberwolves!

More good food and bonding continued on Saturday when a number of members from Morton took me up on my invitation to break the fast with me for Yom Kippur. I shared a very abridged and amateur summary of the holiday and got to share in my favorite portion of the closing service from back home: the Debbie Friedman Havdalah melody which we all sway to with the lights turned off.

I went down the wrong forest road in search of a Yom Kippur hike that day, but did
find a beautifully clear stream to do Tashlich in. Also, found out today that
Packwood water is sources from Packwood lake in the mountains. Snazzy. 

Then on Monday, more celebration. Nora kicked off our AmeriBirthdays by turning 24 and we celebrated at the Morton house with carrot cake, cider and ice cream and a good heaping side of frosting (and Chris' green goo which had by then, been ''recycled'' three times in an attempt to finnish it off from potluck numero uno.)

It has been so refreshing and uplifting to be a part of such and inclusive and well rounded group. Bonding in large group settings has always been a challenge for me because it takes me a while to warm up and often I am left in the dust of various cliques or fast bonds that I have just never had a knack for. But in this case, it seems as though we are all moving at the same pace and no one is getting written off. I am happy to be a part of this AmeriFamily.

As for the work side of things, I have been developing a rapidly expanding cluster of opportunities, roles and ideas this past week and have been hard at work in garnering a ''local status''.

At the beginning of the week, Mary and I attended a meeting for the Packwood Improvement Club. In addition to meeting some of the much talked-about faces of Packwood, I got the scoop on all of the upcoming events to put on our radar, got roped into a couple and got a taste of the small town drama that comes with the territory. It was quite interesting to listen to some of the pre-meeting discussions. An older woman with a brash, matter-of-fact attitude got into a lengthy sermon of advice about the best ways to shoot, maim or otherwise dispose of unwanted critters on your property. Terms like ''flip your lid'', ''jumped my shits'' and ''boiler plate ideas'' pop up everywhere as small reminders that we are not slapped with the fast-moving time of modernity. There is a sense of ''out there'' versus ''in here'' and it is a bit strangely...cozy. The banters of the meeting itself had its own flare also, from impassioned monologues about the principles and values of what the group must represent to heated debates on obscure topics such as what to do with an $18,000 outdoor toilet. There was name dropping and gossip and sarcastic, frustrated remarks about the slow-moving meeting but it was all met with an overtone of endearment and humor for one another.

The faces of the few businesses and establishments in the town are some of the most active community members so the week was also spent networking around the town. Mary and I attended church on Sunday and introduced ourselves. We had met with the warm-hearted interum pastor Lynn early in the week and she had suggested we come by, especially after hearing my idea for a community garden which she thought some church members could help with.

While we were cautioned that the church's thinking was rather conservative, Lynn brought a chipper balance of open-minded frankness to the service and included a small group discussion time about our acceptance of diversity in our own lives.

Many people were excited about the garden idea and the name Gretchen, this elusive organic gardener, was thrown at me for a zillionth time.

The rest of the week included conversations with the library about a homework help and game nights, an exciting meeting about the upcoming community picnic, a couple of side-job possibilities, and an introduction into my new position as part of PMRAY (Pacific Mountain Regional Alliance for Youth), a cross-sector collaboration of Lewis County organizations that is developing a massive database and multitude of projects for improvement of youth's futures. In addition to various projects I will help with, I am also going to be the primary secretary, meaning meeting minutes etc. I am using pens and notepads over 50% of my day, I swear. And feeling very "adult."

These are exciting times, these unfolding weeks. Ideas for projects, events, hikes, crafts are swarming my head it is both overwhelming and a relief to have so many fresh things to focus on. I am anxious to begin my primary position at the open gym next Monday and meet all of the kids of the community but in the mean time, these past few weeks have gradually settled me into calling this place home.

Trail 60: Sand Lake

I am living in hiker haven. There are probably over a hundred trailheads in the area and although many of them are quickly closing for the winter, I am determined to get one in at least every weekend until the snow shuts them down or the cold scares me off. 

Listed as one of the easier hikes in the area and one of the closest, Sand Lake seemed like a good excursion for my first weekend out in the forest. Joined by two other Amerimembers Ainsley and Chris, we headed out mid morning for the six-mile trail. 

The directions I had found were vague at best without any mile markers so we kept watch for inconspicuous dirt roads in the White Pass area. Shortly after we passed a Forest Service road that elicited unfavorable disgruntlement from Chris, I opted to surf for new directions and after a bit of link-hopping, found that we in fact wanted the service road that Chris had scoffed at. 

The road was definitely more traveled for service vehicles than for hikers. In Ainsley's little car, we warily bumped and thumped our way half way up the three miles before encountering a pothole that defeated our ambition. We parked the car and hiked up the rest of the way until we got to a small, almost passable wood sign marking the trail. At first, it appeared to be randomly placed on the side of the road in front of a steep tree line and when we looked around for a trail head, I joked "Okay, up there!"But as we approached the bend, it turned out not to be a joke at all. It was very seriously "up there". The first mile or so of trail led us at a steep incline through thickly moss-lined forest growth. In the morning light, dew still stuck to the floor leaves and made a good excuse for much-needed stops.

Eventually, the tree line broke to a rigid rocky overlook and as we emerged, we found Rainier staring us in the face. 

From there, the clear view got obscured once again as we entered into a surreal realm of forest fire brush. I had seen burn areas from the edge but never walked right through the midst of such a vast area of one.

 Right in the middle of the animated twists and jagged edged scorched wood was a small pond. "Sand Lake?" At first, I thought it could very well be, as Sand Lake earned its name for being incredibly shallow a lot of the time since it is not connected to anything and receives its water from mountain snow melts. At the end of the summer, how much would there be? 

This became a running joke as we ventured back into the woods on the other side, this time our surroundings leveling out and becoming more spacious, interspersed with meadows. It was muddier and we kept running into "sand lakes", eventually some leaking onto the trail itself. Here in the moister woods we began to notice an impressive array of wild mushrooms, from tiny little pin-drop buttons to monstrous, orange speckled displays. After a number of small bodies of water and a little confusion about where the trail was going, Ainsley spotted a LOT of water through the trees. 

Sand lake was much prettier than I had anticipated. And there was still quite a bit of water. It was shallow enough so as not to be too cold and the bank on our side of the trail splayed out with a nice line of big "seating" rocks directly in the sunlight. We sat for a while and I watched vibrations at the center of the lake mysteriously speed and slow down on a seemingly still body of water. Across the other side, we could see camps of Pacific Crest Trail through hikers, as we had officially connected to the PCT at the lake. 

The way down took us through yet another slightly different ecology on the southbound PCT. The trails got wider and muddier and were replete with horse evidence. We were back into deeper woods, hugging the edge of an incline on one side and looking down into a streamy valley on the other. As we neared a portion of the trail where we could hear cars, the directions got confusing again. The only sign posted was one which helpfully read "no bycicles". 

Although our sources had claimed Sand Lake as a loop trail, we found ourselves coming out on Highway 12 which we walked back to our service road. There, we were fortunate enough to encounter Ryan, a young hunter taking his truck up for a camp-out and very willing to let us hang off the back the rest of the way. He confirmed that there was no way this trail looped. So at least we hadn't missed anything. 

All in all, it was a nice hike and the lake was definitely worth seeing.  Around this time of year it seemed to be the perfect time for it. There was not a lot of traffic and the water is clear but on a sunny day like we had with a slight fall breeze, temperatures were incredibly comfortable. Who knows, maybe I will even go back in a few weeks to catch some fall colors. But next time, I'll just take the turn-around back down. I wouldn't mind going through that crazy burn forest twice. 

AmeriMove

Things I have learned: 

To speak AmeriLanguage, you simply add Ameri to almost everything.

EVERYONE knows you are AmeriCorps. And they automatically LOVE you. 

Except cops. Who apparently love to give flack to out-of-state licenses. Have yet to experience this.

The learning center is smack dab in the middle of three active volcanoes: Adams, Helens, Rainier. That being said...holy wow, I can see Rainier from my street!

Mary is adorably late and forgetful to everything. But she is awesome.

This area is not as dead as Meaghann makes it out to be

It will not be what I expect and it will be okay. 

and much, much more. 

I have been here for three days now. I am just now catching up because things have been moving so fast. 

Day one consisted of a very tiring one-stream move-in day. I spent hours overwhelmed by grocery shopping in Portland to stock up for a foodie-less experience and arrived in Packwood around 4pm, just as the last day of the Flea market was wrapping up. My landlord Dave was in the midst of it all and had instructed me to park at the gas station across the street where I could ask for Rick. Instead I got a very gruff owner who would not let me talk to Rick because he was occupied and until I beefed up my curteous approach to a more blunt request, she gave me one of those skeptical "How'd you end up in this town" attitude. Small-town tough skin. 

Dave got me to the house and showed me around. He was exuberantly friendly and eager to help in any way he could (especially with my car) as well as eager to find out my family's religious dedication. The fact that I was raised in a Jewish and Christian household was quickly destabilized by my elaboration that "we integrate a lot of different spiritual practices...I would say more spiritual than religious". All he had to say to that was "well, yes a lot of folks are doing that these days...some of us think that will change...but, whatever." It is safe to say there will be some interesting times ahead between us.

I was blown away by the space I had and endlessly grateful to be landing in one place that didn't feel confining or uncomfortable. There is even a huge deck in back that opens onto a mountain view. For the next four hours or so, I moved at a steady, uninterrupted pace to clear out every last thing from my car and put away every last thing in the house. As I moved about getting things in order, I started to notice how different it was to be living on my own. Things I never would have thought to be important cause they were always just around were suddenly building a hefty list. Refrigerator magnets? Who would have ever thought I needed those? I was fortunate to have had my bin of camping supplies because dishware, pots, pans, toilet paper had not even crossed my mind. I was even lucky enough to have a dish sponge and kitchen towels tucked away in there. 

Organizing cabinets was a feat as well. Where will I want to reach for what? should snacks be down so low? How do I want containers separated out? And then I made a meal and I found I was no longer in a place with practiced composting. I started with a small plastic container and later, when I realized it would be a bit before I got around to a pile out back, I realized I could use the 5-gallon container that Dave provided for cleaning supplies. But here I was with a blank slate. How will I chose to live? I get to start molding these questions without templates. 

Just as I sat down to dinner, I got a text from my neighbor Mary who was coming home from work. She came over and we shared drinks as she gave me a welcome and talked a bit about our portion of the program. 

The next day felt long and overwhelming. It was a whole lot of sitting, scrambled note-taking and ice-breaker games, some of which were more beneficial than others. The information we received was helpful but it was also a speed-version of everything all at once and with the way I process things, it just brought up this feeling of urgency to go home and rewind. Paperwork, appointments, responsibilities, time-tracking, food stamps, online filing for loan forbearance, scheduling....I began to worry about being in the right place. Everyone else seemed so...everyone else. I was in a place of judgement and worry.

Day three. Challenge course introduction. The day went much better. I was tired but we got to be out and about that day and through working through the various challenges, we learned a lot more about each other than we had on the first day. Any preconceived notions or stereotypes that had been formed just dissolved. And we made a great team. Our facilitator inspired questions that we all answered so naturally, not a begrudged struggle for an answer to be detected. Before we went on the course, we did some warm ups and trust lifting/spotting and discussed our leadership styles. Our first challenge in the actual course involved retrieving a bucket from the opposite side of a river without crossing it, using only objects around us. We ended up building a very precarious plank and an even more precarious one when we had to come up with a different solution to put the bucket back. It was amazing to see the problem-solving and positivity that came about through the challenge and no one ever seemed to be outcast from the efforts. This strength worked its way through the rest of the day.

9/5/13

Every day has unfolded this experience to feel more and more tangible. Today was amazing. Since we didn't have to start until 2pm, most of the group carpooled to Chehalis to get our Food Stamp Benefits. Not only was that an awesome feeling but it also provided a lot of bonding time. The rest of the day was resplendent with new connections. In Chehalis, we stumbled upon a small native crafts store run by two sisters who buy on consignment from all fairly local artists. They were super excited to hear about AmeriCorps and offered their 40 acres to come camp on whenever we want. They also do sweats and thought it would be great if we could get the kids out for a session. And they teach dreamcatcher-making. And have a Pow-wow ceremony. and would love to teach the kids crafts. All things I am interested in integrating. 

Back in Packwood, Corey, Mary, Chris and I stopped for lunch and then wandered the library where I met Elizabeth and Chloe, two librarians who connected me with a local woman starting an Organic garden in town. Wow. More falling into place. 

Meeting for our packwood tour, we started in the gym where, after a brief run-down, we got to play a little bit and Corey, Chris, Jordan, Mary and I volleyed and soccered a volley ball around. I felt this fire in my core and this bliss of feeling integrated into a sport and feeling capable. It had been so long since I had played around in this way and in that moment, I knew this will be a year of rediscovery. 

As we get closer to our first day in the schools, I am learning more and more about what to expect and as people play out their stories and words of wisdom, the challenges ahead have started to feel more manageable. I am starting to see ways in which I can embrace this culture more and I am excited to see how adaptable I can push myself to be.

Homelessness as Culture

Josie at first appeared soft-spoken unassuming. We met one night at the main circle dinner in Montana. Her partner Brian was a long-time Rainbow brother but this was Josie's first time. As we got to know one another, it was casually brought up that she worked in a sort of soup kitchen and dining experience in Eugene, OR. The way she explained her role never quite struck me until I got to watch her living her passion.

Only a few hours outside Eugene on my return to Manzanita, I was thinking about trying to drive all the way through. Matt and Emily were back that way and I had not heard from Josie. I didn't want another car-nap after the night before on a crowded, unwelcoming street in Redding. Just as I was plotting, the phone rang. We would love to have you. 



Brain led me through very precise directions to a long winding drive at the end of a hill just outside of town. Lined with towering trees and firs, it was a perfect combination of seclusion and society. Josie showed me to an old Victorian sort of bedroom, poured me some wine and immediately delved into my journey with unquenchable curiosity. She offered up a hodge podge of food for dinner we exchanged stories of our post gathering adventures while Brian shared his stories about previous gathering adventures, including one involving some interesting carcass scenarios...

It was perfect. I had to head out fairly early the next day and she had to be at her business to get the breakfast show on the road. And so in the morning, I followed her to work to see the place.

The Dining Room resides in a low-reaching, stark-walled building and yet it draws in just enough intrigue with its modernly fashioned logo, blanch white, a funky spoon and fork making up the "i"s. When we arrive, there are already a few individuals waiting patiently against the outside wall. As we get out of the car, Josie shouts hellos to a few of the faces by name and they give back gracious good mornings.

Contrary to its facade, the inside illuminates in color. Just inside the front doors, the first thing that catches my eye is a partially three dimensional mural. "This was done by local artists and all of the boxes are names that people can add...of those who have passed". The rest of the decor has equally tangible ties to the local community. She points to the large murals around the corner, a local artist. All of the framed paintings above the vibrantly-colored booths? Local homeless artists. "Homelessness gets this one-dimensional face. But it has culture". 

                                         

I struggle to peel my eyes from this rich culture as we go back into the kitchen. Individually painted mugs, authentic dining stools and plants and even more paintings near the ceiling. Hand-colored signage.

The kitchen is getting creative in their own way. Chef Jesse is hard at work on breakfast biscuits and her other kitchen help took the initiative to come in early after some volunteer issues. Everyone is smiling despite the early hour.

Floor manager and registration coordinator Zane and Vikki pose for a picture while staff help Angie dons the volunteer t-shirt logos

As Josie describes the procedure of the meal to me, it is like any other restaurant. You make reservations. There is a waitstaff. You can't just walk in begging. And you are treated like an individual. "I was in Chicago talking to a prostitute once, and she mentioned how long its been since she'd been in a dining room. I asked how come and she scoffed and said 'c'mon, who would serve me?'" This sparked a light in Josie and she knew she wanted to help the homeless community. Back in Eugene, her daughter worked for the Food Bank and they were starting up a dining program. In her interview, Josie was asked about her cooking experience. "They were asking me all of these things like 'what would you do with this or that recipe. It didn't feel right." In a passionate and bold act of indigence, a voice spoke up. "You know, you can teach anyone to cook. But you can't teach kindness. What you need is someone so kind, that they inspire kindness in those that have had a mean life." With that, she walked out assuming the search for her calling was not yet over. But in that bold move, she had found it.

Josie and her staff have managed to make The Dining Room just that. In its seventh year, the dining room is feeding hundreds of both struggling families and individuals 18 and older at no cost. She elevates the disheveled soup kitchen experience into a wholesome, community-building atmosphere where the most rugged and hard-headed people can mingle with an average joe and find common grounds and where artistic and individual expressions are recognized in this subculture that so often gets a white-out blanket stereotype in our world.

Before I hit the road, Josie pointed out one last mural. It was a song written by the community to voice the feelings and blockades they face every day. "They sing it together while waiting for their food." Says Josie. Wholeheartedly moved, the inspiration she feels from them glistens in her eyes.

Three days, three cameras, three countries, three steps

I write this from the quietude of the Pacific Coast abode, safely back in one place (very temporarily) until my next big transition tomorrow. The car is holding up albeit with plenty of new squeaks and new oglers, getting attention now for more than just the plethora of bumper stickers. I am quickly developing driver's anxiety and am both anxious and relieved to get it to Washington where I can turn it over to a shop for evaluation resulting in insurance covered repairs at best and a totaled car at worst.

For thematic consistency, the crash seemed to set an overtone for my California excursion, denouncing its title from vacation to more of a challenge course for inner peace. While this meant that the ratio of bliss to work was more stratified, I found that the trip kept returning to a recognition that I have recently been living too far in my head, too expectant and too fearful of scarcity. In constraining the travel freedoms I had, I was reminded of re-opening some inner freedoms.

Confronting constraint was mostly in travel time. Besides no longer taking roadside pullovers as liberally, I quickly realized I had orchestrated my trip in such a way that had me barely even getting a sample sized flavor of the towns and places I passed through each day. 

The morning after Nahko, I spent a few hours walking aimlessly towards Golden Gate park and ran into my hitchhiking friends Tex and Blossom and their Haight community. Blossom and I walked down Haight street and she treated me to some groceries and pointed out historical hotspots like Jimi Hendrix's red house and Janis' tree. After getting caught up with her, I found myself refraining from ogling the colorful signs and storefronts and street art of Haight Street to race the clock to Santa Cruz where I was supposed to meet Aliah for a Yoga video production at 4. Half a dozen lost phone calls later, I attempted to quell all frustrated, flustered tones from my voice as I lugged my belongings up the stairs. In my haste and anxiety about my car, I had risen my expectations on what sort of sympathy and coddling I "deserved" and arrogantly took offense when it seemed people did not "feel my pain." Like a child, I'd reverted to wanting my problems the center of other's worlds. 

And like the world, it showed me who's boss. 

The first thing Aliah offered as I clamored into her doorway was a hot tub. Then a Kombucha. Then later, her story. Her amazing struggle and her own crash that she had to do everything to pull herself out of on her own. And here I was wanting more attention for my own silly mistake.  

As karma would have it, she ended up being more than just a source for balancing perspective. As I prepared to rush out (once again) the next morning, she opened her home to me and her attention to me in the role of sanctuary and personal guide. 

Her offering offered everything that I had sort of been greedily expecting. A physical escape. A way to stop rushing. A way to be taken under wing. 

I had rushed out because my next stop in my plans was Yosemite. I had just learned about the fire and found the travel distance to be much further than I'd first thought. But I had been set on it. I'm in CA, after all, right? I have to go. 

At first, this constraint felt suffocating and overwhelming. Half way there, I could still hear Aliah's offer. Stay here. I think I can help you. I could have at least stayed longer, right? I was questioning not just the drive but my whole year-plan now. But I was stuck with my actions, so what choice did I have? 

Day 1:

Everything feels like a crash landing. Squeezed into tiny pockets of time with no meaning. 

I got into the park for free. No time to stop and soak in the splendor and I refer nostalgically back to my spontaneous time in Yellowstone where the air itself seemed to paralyze time. Now, I dart from parking to shuttle, stop to stop. Cash only, I hand over my coveted two dollar bill and my last three bucks to the register. Just enough daylight left to get my car and set up camp. 

Leftovers, panning over what to do with the time I have left. Campmates from El Salvador soon joined by campmates who are climbers. A tense phone call home and I am jarred into realization. Hello, spontaneous world. I guess I need to relax. 

Day 2: 

Carpe Diem. My only day to spend in Yosemite. Homage to John Muir. Go out and find yourself. Go out and find a hike. 

I chose the 4-mile trail to Glacier Point. Trying to calculate, I figured I would have a good hike up, a reflective meander back down interspersed with journaling. A couple of hours at the visitors center. Somewhere in there, I hope for a miracle that lets me relax into the beauty.

The miracle was not in the solace I planned but in company. at 8:45am, fifteen minutes after my trek began, I met Timo and Ben. They had started out a bit earlier but both were equipped with much nicer upgrades of my Canon Rebel and it was apparent they were not in any hurry. As I stopped to snap a picture behind them, they extended a friendly hello and our hiking group was formed. Timo and Ben had both flown into San Francisco from with a calling to the US to hike. Timo was taking time between graduate studies in Munich, Germany and Ben had left his French roots to move to Montreal and was just looking for a brief getaway. When they discovered their shared travel visions, they decided to get a hostel and split the cost of a rental car. 

In the day's shift, it felt like nothing was sacrificed. where I usually feel that stopping for photo opportunities are inhibited with others, we all had the same knee jerk compulsion to stop around every corner and take pictures of the same painted curves and arches in the mountains at a dozen different vantage points. The cameras naturally pulled us together, all of our personal hikes speaking the same language. We respected stops. We were blissful in silence. We were sentimental about beauty. And we were not bashful about snapping pictures of one another. Ben's favorite shots were to capture people taking pictures of people. Timo shared my recently neglected pastime of road-less-taken vantage points that involved hopping rocks and darting through trees. Another reminder to break from perceived constraints. 

The two of them had taken the time to get to the visitor center before hitting the trails and had managed to plan out a full day-trip with all of the proper trail maps. By the time we reached the top of Glacier Point, they had convinced me to alter my route and accompany them down the other side of the mountain onto the Panorama trail that led to Nevada and Vernell falls. What we had all assumed to be down hill turned into some of the most rewarding and muscle-aching 14 miles we had ever hiked at once. Especially at the falls, we took time to sit and take it all in. Yosemite has this intensely protective sort of force unlike any other national park I have experienced. And I felt like John Muir had sat in every place I sat. 

At the end of the day, we collapsed on Shuttles that took us back to a 1-mile trail to our cars. A walk in the park after the day's demands, of course. We ended down in the valley with well-deserved Pizza and ciders and good conversation. 

That night the park is full. I had apparently caught the one small window of time between nervous visitors fleeing the vicinity of the fourth largest California fire in history and the onslaught of the regular tourist overflow. Had I spent too much more time questioning how to do things perfectly, I would have missed out.

We all took a kodak moment when the half dome came into view

Timo 

The fire burning over the other side of the valley

Ben at the top of Glacier Point

Nevada and Vernall Falls from the top of Glacier Point

FIRE

This doe was resting right near the path on our way down and didn't budge for a while. 

ENTHUSIASM!

So many patterns. 

Spotted Ground Squirrels. Timo and Ben gathered enough photos to do a thorough behavioral experiment. I got over it a little sooner, but they were adorable. 

Almost home!

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Start at 4 mile trailhead, down panorama and finish at HappyIsles area.

Walking back to the cars.

Day 3: 

Packed and ready to go, I made it over to the Visitor's center for the educational portion on the wonders I was surrounded by. I took the walking path through the valley instead of the shuttle and sent gaping smiles into the sun. Our hike had momentarily swept away anxieties and agendas. I had found myself revisiting the same mantras and lessons that the woods of the porcupines had left me with. You have no choice but to be HERE, NOW. What will you do with that? 

Yosemite is a gem in California. Back during the Ice Age, much of California did not get cold enough to experience a lot of glacial action but Yosemite was one of the few places that did and the valley that formed as a result created quite an impressive central valley that continues to change through erosion and most prominently, rock fall. In fact, the first peoples to inhabit the land 7,000 years ago were called the Ahwahneechee which means "gaping mouth-like place". I felt like an old-timer to the glacial movement explanation after the travels of the summer but here, the rock type changed. In Yosemite, the dominating geological material is Granite. 100 million years ago, the Farallon surface plate shoved up against the American tectonic plates and caused a huge melting of heat build up five miles under the earth. Some of this action erupted as volcanoes but most of it solidified as Granite under the weight of rock over top and over time this rock was eroded to expose the granite. The nuances and characteristic qualities in the famous locations are distinctive through the various ways that the glaciers moved. Cathedral Peak, for example extra sharp cause the top stuck above the glacier line and did not get smoothed while Captain cooled more slowly and built up stronger Granite this way to be less effected by erosion.

The uniqueness of these Glaciers is part of what drew John Muir to the area and in 1871, he published the first piece of literature on Sierra Nevada glaciers and began conducting studies of their movement. As I read over the history, I realized that these studies probably played a large part in the shift of the parks utilization. Before becoming a park, it had attracted many miners during the gold rush. This also led to a huge massacre of the native Miwok and Palute in the 1851 Mariposa Battalion Raid conducted by a pro mining community of the nearby town. By 1910, 90% of the natives were dead and missing and the rest resorted to working in the tourist trade when the area became a park in 1864, selling arts to tourists or becoming employed to dance or show off ceremonial practices. Around this time, the park was advertised as a ritzy getaway for couples and had all the fancy facilities you could ask for. It wasnt until after John Muir began his studies that a shift started to focus more on the recreational use. In 1931, the national park service took up John Muirs personal hobby and began recording movements and by 1950, having a 2 million annual visitation rate, they finally plotted the removal of commercial facilities  and raised environmental awareness. Today, Maclure Glacier still moves but the Lyell Glacier, originally the largest, has stopped and decreased in size by 62%, technically denouncing its Glacial status as well. 

Pretty local Stellar's Jay

The exhibit also had information on the native animals and artists that have been inspired through Yosemite throughout the years (with a whole gallery dedicated to Ansel Adams.)

But best of all, I got to get my picture taken with John Muir.

The three steps:

Imbalance/Resistance

Intuition/Integration

Retrospect/Balance